


Half a Word is Enough

by ScullyGolightly



Category: Borgen (TV), The Fall (TV 2013)
Genre: Crossover, F/F, Femslash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:21:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26783587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScullyGolightly/pseuds/ScullyGolightly
Summary: Stella Gibson came to Copenhagen for work not to fall in love, but when she meets the enigmatic Birgitte Nyborg everything changes.
Relationships: Stella Gibson/Birgitte Nyborg
Comments: 14
Kudos: 34





	1. Half a Word is Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer:  
> I do not own the characters of The Fall. They belong to Allan Cubitt, Artists Studio, and BBC Northern Ireland.  
> I do not own the characters of Borgen. They belong to Adam Price and DR.
> 
> This story takes place following the events of The Fall Series 3 and during Borgen Series 3.
> 
> Shoutout to Erin (@buckupcamper on Twitter) for recommending Borgen to me. I am so grateful to have Birgitte Nyborg in my life now!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains sexually explicit material.

To the good listener, half a word is enough. -Danish proverb

“I believe that we humans need each other. I believe we belong together as a nation. I believe there is more to unite us than divide us.” The Danish Prime Minister’s hair was pulled back in a neat, voluminous chignon. Skin bright and fresh, berry-ripe lip. There was a fierce determination in her icy blue eyes with a hint of fear but so much passion, so much devotion to her ideals. 

Stella blinked. Her vision had blurred, becoming misty-eyed as she came to the close of the PM’s speech after which a hush fell over the room before the applause erupted. The YouTube video ended and queued up another: the Prime Minister’s address on climate change. She stopped the next video from playing and just stared at the frozen image of the charismatic politician.

The fact was she was falling in love with this woman. Her three month stint in Copenhagen did not have this on the agenda. This did not fit in with her itinerary ...or her life for that matter. But it was happening right before her eyes. The swell she felt in her chest watching these poor-quality, roughly-subtitled YouTube videos was unlike any feeling she had ever had. Is this love? Could it be that Detective Superintendent Stella Gibson was experiencing real romantic love for the first time at the ripe middle age of forty-six?

Sentimentality was a rare crack in her natural comportment—it just wasn’t in her nature to have wistful notions or flights of fancy. Usually she saw something she wanted and if it was practical and unmessy, she would go out and get it. She was like that with lovers especially. One-night stands, sweet nights, random fucks—they required no emotional investment. Even within relationships that carried on for a bit past the one time it was easy for her to stay detached. She had impulses to fuck, cravings for human contact, but she had never ached just to be near someone. For Birgitte Nyborg, she ached.

All this, and they hadn’t even kissed yet. There had been two dates—three if she counted the coffees they had in the cafe at TV1 after they each had made appearances on the 8:30 news slot. Stella was not even sure Birgitte thought of these meetings as dates. If it were any other situation or any other person, Stella wouldn’t consider them dates either. She sensed Birgitte was holding back, there was a hesitation, and she wished she knew the source of it. Was it because she was in the public eye or that she was a woman. It was most likely that tricky combination of both, Stella thought. Or perhaps it was because of her kids. Like any good detective, Stella intended to get to the bottom of it. She needed to know if something she had not thought possible was there, if these intense feelings held any weight besides the flimsy lightness of a dream.

Because if not, she needed to shut it all down. There was no time in her life to go skirt-chasing even if that skirt was expensive and designer and leather, and hugged the woman’s shapely hips just right. There was no room in her life for figments of imagination or hopeful yearning. If she needed to squash it, she would, but she was determined to find out for sure if such vagaries were an actual possibility. The hypothetical nature of it felt suffocating. Birgitte was a straight-forward kind of woman, and maybe a frank conversation with her would clear up her confusion. She would know one way or the other if she had to work out how to be happy without Birgitte in her life or work on making Birgitte happy in their life together. 

At this train of thought, Stella shut her laptop with a frustrated snap. It concerned her to think this way, for these thoughts to go that far. She was like a schoolgirl with a crush—she had never once taken on that role, not even when she was an actual schoolgirl. The feelings were unbecoming of a woman of her stature, with her poise and self-assuredness. Birgitte had somehow toppled her strong tenet of independence, her will to not bend to idealism or anything resembling whimsy. This fondness had developed into a monster of her own making and she felt it might destroy her. 

If Stella did cave, it would be self-destruction, none of the blame could be put on the beautiful Birgitte—she was above reproach, immaculate. And at the same time, Stella knew how dangerous it could be for both of them to be putting her up on a pedestal. Since these feelings were new, Stella wrestled with them, and they were cumbersome. She needed to sort this out before the self-inflicted damage became too much to repair. And that she didn’t lose herself. That was a major fear for Stella in this whole business of falling in love with someone. Would she lose herself? That was not something she could afford to lose nor was willing to lose. But this fear came in second to the one of losing a chance to be with Birgitte. 

Stella’s phone buzzed. A text. From her.  _ Running late, _ it said.

_ Good, _ thought Stella. She had gotten caught up in her daydream; well, no, she had gotten caught up in the anxiety of analyzing that daydream. She unwrapped the towel from around her wet hair and rushed to the bathroom to finish getting ready for their third, no, fourth date—she decided to count the coffee date after all.

***

During dinner, they seemed to be on the same wavelength, even the nervous energy seemed to be shared, although Stella wasn’t sure what Birgitte would have to be nervous about. She, herself, was anxious because her usual seduction tactics were useless on Birgitte, and she had never needed a back-up plan before. Unexpectedly, a memory from a few years ago popped into her head: being left standing at an elevator. She hadn’t needed a back-up plan with Reed, either—she had been flat-out rejected. It had all been for the best in the end, but the horrible thought of being rejected by Birgitte now wormed its way into her brain.

Stella looked at Birgitte’s hand resting on the white linen tablecloth, fingers tapping casually at the base of her wine glass. There was a large ring on her middle finger, a geometric shape with a sparkling white topaz in the center. Stella leaned forward, eyes still cast down, and lightly ran her fingertip along Birgitte’s slender digit. Her fingers twitched towards Stella’s then she pulled back, placing her hands in her lap and avoiding Stella’s eyes when she looked up at her. 

Stella let out a small chuckle which drew Birgitte’s attention back at once. “I’ve never had trouble being direct before,” Stella prefaced. 

Birgitte waved her hand, gesturing at Stella to stop. “It’s not necessary. I am aware of the flirting. This time.” She paused. “It’s just that we’ve always been in public. And this is Copenhagen.”

“You say that as if it’s a small town and not a major international metropolis. But, I get it, you’re a public figure.” Birgitte smiled, scrunching her nose, and Stella just about melted. “So if I get you someplace private…”

Birgitte smirked. “I can’t say what will happen.” Another pause. They were maddening, these pauses, and kept Stella hanging on every word. “But I am curious to find out.”

Stella raised her hand, getting the attention of their waiter, and called for the check. Birgitte laughed. 

“What did you mean by ‘this time?’” asked Stella. “You said you were aware of the flirting this time.”

“When I saw you at the preparation luncheon for the coalition, the first time we met came back to me. You were flirting with me then, weren’t you, when we met in London?”

“Yes.”

“It did not register with me, not a bit. My marriage was in the middle of falling apart. I was coming up on a year as PM. There was a lot of stress at that time.” Her gaze went retrospectively distant for a moment. “But I do remember you being quite charming.”

“Not charming enough for the Danish Prime Minister Birgitte Nyborg, it seems,” teased Stella. “But enough for her press secretary.”

Birgitte’s eyes went wide. “Kasper? You and Kasper Juul?”

Stella laughed and shook her head. “No, but not for a lack of trying on his part. I was, as you say, aware of his flirting.” 

“He is a flirt,” Birgitte said, tipping back her wine glass and finishing off the last large sip. She looked at Stella, eyes gleaming.  _ “You _ are a flirt,” she added.

Stella shifted closer, keeping the eye contact. “What are you going to do about it?” 

Stella watched as Birgitte’s cheeks darkened in a blush and her chest rose and fell with tension-filled, quickened breaths. She could see her mind race like she was in the midst of having to make a hasty political decision. Birgitte boldly took Stella’s hand and held it between her own. “I’m going to let you take me back to your apartment and we can see what it’s like to flirt in private.” 

Stella felt as if her whole body was tingling. Birgitte rubbed her thumb along Stella’s knuckles and then cooly took her hands away as the waiter approached with Stella’s credit card and receipt. Dinner was over and Stella was looking at her dessert across the table, a dessert she would be tasting soon, in just the short amount of time it took them to walk to her nearby flat.

***

That hesitation Stella had sensed from Birgitte before reappeared as Stella unlocked the door to her small, temporary home. She really just wanted to devour her as soon as they got inside but knew if Birgitte was harboring doubts she would take it slow and go at Birgitte’s pace. She tossed her purse and keys on the table in the kitchenette, removed her coat, and then took Birgitte’s. Then they stood looking at one another—like in a stand-off. Neither made a move until Stella finally let out a resigned sigh and shrugged her shoulders in defeat. 

This caused Birgitte to panic. “No, I, uh, I just want to be clear about something before… before we… erm, you deserve honesty, Stella, from me.”

“What is it?” Stella asked, trying to keep the impatience out of her tone. 

“I am kind of seeing someone. It’s very casual, nothing serious, but I still think you ought to know in case that information changes anything for you.” 

Stella stepped towards her, she was in her space now, they were breathing the same air. “It doesn’t change anything for me, I want you as badly as before.”

Birgitte’s lips parted and she let out a shaky, lust-heavy gasp, seeming to wobble a little bit in her heels. “I want… us, I want us to be open with each other,” she whispered.

Stella nodded in agreement but her eyes were burning into Birgitte’s. Her fingers played at the pearl buttons of Birgitte’s silk blouse. She undid them one by one and pushed it back off her shoulders. “Yes, open is good,” she said in a low voice, her hand hovering over a lace-covered breast. She hadn’t touched her yet, but Birgitte could feel the heat like a current. 

An anguished look crossed her face that threw Stella off but only for a split-second because Birgitte sighed and said, “Oh kiss me, please, I can’t take it any longer.”

Stella couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth, then she closed her hand over Birgitte’s breast and closed the little distance between them, their lips meeting, lightly and wet and warm. Then Birgitte’s hands were in Stella’s hair and there was nothing light about the kiss anymore, it was heavy and rich, generous and greedy. Heavy tongues slid across each other, lips nipping, moans escaping into the humid, heated air surrounding them. 

They undressed the best they could with their bodies pressed so tightly together. Stella’s hands were roaming and she was rough with them, pawing at the black lace lingerie that she was convinced Birgitte had chosen to wear especially for her, to drive her wild—and it did. Stella felt downright feral. Birgitte’s soft, tanned skin underneath the delicate netted fabric looked so erotic, she wanted to run her tongue along every square inch. 

Birgitte stepped out of her skirt that had puddled at their feet and Stella lifted her and spun them around, setting her down on the table and stepping into the space between her spread legs. Birgitte wiggled her butt so she was on the edge and Stella could grind her pelvis against her. She wrapped her legs around Stella’s waist and pulled her down into another kiss, tangling her fingers in those silky blonde locks again. 

Feeling Stella’s pussy on hers even through the thin layers of their knickers was exquisite. Her breath hitched and she thought she was about to come, but this needed to last longer—so much longer. She pushed Stella away from her, fevered carnality in her gaze as she slid her panties down her legs. Birgitte nodded to Stella and said “Off,” telling her to lose the underwear. Stella did it as slow and tortuous as Birgitte had done for her. 

There was a moment where they just looked at each other, similar to the stand-off from earlier but they were both stark naked this time and there was no questioning their intentions now. 

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” Stella told her like it was a fact, but it was a fact to Stella. She found a lot of women attractive, but she had never been in awe of someone’s beauty like she was with Birgitte’s. 

Stella took her face in her hands and kissed her with just her lips; but it was deep, the kiss, and they both felt it in the pit of their guts. Then Stella knelt down and got on her knees at Birgitte’s feet, her hands traipsing down her sides to her luscious ass. Birgitte felt behind her, grasping at any surface to help keep her upright as Stella’s hot mouth made contact with her throbbing sex. 

The taste of her pussy was like a drug to Stella and she would willingly overdose and die happily in her lap. The way her tight walls hugged her tongue; every warm, soft crevice she had the privilege to explore was the most divine pleasure. The little gasps and whimpers that came from Birgitte’s sweet lips was the sweetest music. 

Birgitte began rocking her hips, wanting more, and Stella obliged, penetrating her with her fingers now and sucking on her plump clit. Birgitte hissed loudly and her hands went to the crown of Stella’s head and gripped fistfuls of her hair. Her head fell back as Stella nibbled relentlessly and she started a breathless chant of yeses, but it was in Danish. “Ja-ja-ja-JA-JA!” It sounded like the English “yeah” and Stella felt as if she was being cheered on. She had never had such spirited encouragement while performing oral sex on someone. A grin crept up on her lips as she flicked against Birgitte’s hot button of nerves with her tongue and deepened the reach of her fingers inside of her. Then her climax crested and Stella could feel the decadent tension in her pussy give way to the pleasure in an explosion—the delicious pulsing of her cunt, the gush of her arousal, the noises she made, and the tight grip on her hair—Stella thought for a second that she had died, passed away eating her pussy, and gone to heaven. 

She sat back on her heels, sporting a proud smirk, and let Birgitte recover. Once she did, she got down on the floor with Stella and wrapped her arms around her in a simple hug. It was such an odd gesture, but an endearing one, and Stella hugged her back. She nuzzled into the crook of Birgitte’s neck, smelling her perfume mixed with the scent of her cum that was still on her lips. 

Birgitte pushed against her, guiding her to lie back. “I want to make you feel good, too,” she said. She moved to hover over her, bringing herself face to face with Stella and gave her big, beaming smile. Stella returned it without thinking and it was an utterly new experience for her—just the act of smiling during sex like it was the most natural thing in the world. Fucking had always been serious business. She, of course, got pleasure from sex, but it wasn’t light-hearted or joyous pleasure like she was feeling now looking at Birgitte’s smiling face. It was usually strategic, the push and pull of the seduction game, especially with men. This was unlike any sexual encounter she’d had—this was making love. She had never felt comfortable using that term until tonight.

“Please touch me, Birgitte.”

Somehow Birgitte’s smile grew wider and she lowered herself to lie next to Stella, propping up on her elbow and keeping one leg tangled between Stella’s. Her eyes remained locked with Stella and the smile remained on her lips as she ran her fingertips between Stella’s breasts. She circled around each perked nipple with featherlight strokes before cupping her firmly. Stella’s flesh erupted in goosebumps, Birgitte’s touch sending white-hot sparks all through her. She trapped her bottom lip between her teeth and fought the urge to close her eyes under the immense pleasure. She wanted to keep staring at this Nordic goddess who wanted to make her feel good. 

Birgitte’s hand traveled down, tickling her ribs on the way, dipping into her belly button and toying with the delicate rose-gold piercing she had there. Then she went lower, rubbing between her thighs, finding her swollen and wet. Her next move was timid and her smile faltered; she slipped her finger inside Stella but just barely like one does when dipping one’s toe in to check the water’s temperature. Stella gave her a slight nod to reassure her, to encourage, and Birgitte pushed deeper inside. Stella moaned her approval and Birgitte added two more fingers and pumped in and out of her in a slow and steady rhythm. 

Birgitte soon had Stella writhing beneath her, whimpers and soft grunts expelling from her lips. She leaned over and licked the outer curve of Stella’s tit and then closed her mouth around her tight, blush-pink nipple. Stella arched her back and groped at her other boob with her own hand, squeezing as her pleasure increased. Birgitte helped her chase that release and sped up her movements. She felt her climbing and climbing and tipped her over into that freefall of ecstasy by strumming her hot, slick rosebud with her wet fingers and biting down around her nipple. Stella’s body convulsed and she cried out, but Birgitte kept going. Her fingers were back inside, stroking her sensitive walls. Stella’s orgasm abated but another one was approaching as Birgitte continued to finger her. She released Stella’s breast and kissed her way up her chest and neck, her tongue darting out to lick along her jawline, then to her lips and they locked together in a sloppy kiss as Stella came undone for the second time. 

Birgitte hit her G-spot and grazed over her clit with her thumb at the same time. Stella broke the kiss, bracing herself, and hissed through gritted teeth as the euphoria washed over her again. Now Birgitte eased up, cupping Stella’s ravaged sex tenderly and tucking her body neatly into hers. She hummed contentedly with her lips pressed to Stella’s throat, and Stella felt the warm vibrations of it throughout her entire being. 

They laid, intertwined, in the still and quiet room listening to each other breathe. Birgitte hugged closer to Stella and said, “I’m getting cold.”

“Well, we can’t have that.” She stood and put her hand out to help Birgitte up, then she grabbed the throw blanket from the sofa and wrapped it around her. Stella gave her a peck on the lips. “Sit. I’ll put on the kettle.”

Birgitte curled up on the couch and watched Stella walk naked into the bedroom. She came back out in a pale pink silk robe and went into the kitchen to make them tea. Birgitte got up and stood by the large window that looked down onto Gammeltorv. Not too far in the distance, she could see the spire of Christiansborg Palace—Borgen—a place that still felt like home to her even after two and a half years in the private sector.

Stella joined her and handed her a mug of tea. “Not a bad view, hm.”

“It’s lovely.”

“So are you.” Stella leaned over and kissed her. Then she took a sip from her own mug and went to sit on the sofa, tucking her feet underneath her. Birgitte followed and they sat enjoying the comfortable silence again. 

“I’m pleased that being on the board of the coalition has granted me more time in Denmark. The constant travel was beginning to wear on me. But I am most pleased that we were able to meet again. It seems like such a fated chance of fortune.”

Stella turned to her and smiled.  _ Meant to be, _ she thought but did not say. The blanket had fallen off Birgitte’s shoulder, exposing an alluring hint of her collarbone, and her hair was loose and sex-mussed, framing her heart-shaped face. Freshly fucked was a good look on Birgitte Nyborg. “That was your first time with a woman.” It was a statement, not a question. But it was gentle, not derisive.

“Was it terribly obvious?” Birgitte asked with a bit of wince in her easy smile. 

“No, not at all. I could feel it ...here.” Stella put her hand over Birgitte’s heart. Her palm was warm from holding the mug, and Birgitte felt that warmth spread through her to her bones. “You didn’t do anything to show inexperience. I would say you’re a natural at it,” Stella quipped, smirking. Birgitte giggled, scrunching her nose up in that adorable way that made Stella’s heart beat faster and solidly in her chest. 

“In one of my first meetings as Prime Minister, I had to be told that I should sit at the head of my table. I’d never admit it to anyone else, but I was so naïve in the beginning, and with that naïveté came some missteps. I’ve tried very hard to move away from that.” 

“I think you have succeeded. You exude confidence.” It was one of many qualities that Stella admired in her.

Birgitte downed the rest of her tea and set it on the coffee table. “This was very good, by the way. Warmed me right up.” She let the blanket fall to her waist then she took Stella’s mug and set it down next to hers. “Not only confident, but ambitious,” she said as she climbed into Stella’s lap. “I want to make you come again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Pairing: This Is Love by PJ Harvey


	2. Threshold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer:  
> I do not own the characters of The Fall. They belong to Allan Cubitt, Artists Studio, and BBC Northern Ireland.  
> I do not own the characters of Borgen. They belong to Adam Price and DR.  
> Dialogue from Borgen 03x01 written by Adam Price, Jeppe Gjervig Gram, and Maja Jul Larsen.
> 
> This chapter contains sexually explicit material.

The most difficult mountain to cross is the threshold. -Danish proverb

Birgitte was scheduled to attend the coalition meeting the next day, representing the board; Stella was leading the meeting. They exchanged polite pleasantries and only a few hidden, furtive glances before Stella called everyone to order. 

The reason Stella was here in Copenhagen heading this coalition was actually Birgitte. One of the initiatives Birgitte had introduced under her government was setting up an extensive mental health department within all state and federal law enforcement agencies. Stella had created the model and implemented it at the Met with great success. Birgitte as Statsminister had reached out to Scotland Yard to set up a similar commission in Denmark. Most things take time to go through government channels and this project, especially with its large scale, was no different. Birgitte was out of office by the time the ball started to roll. 

Luckily, she was on the board of the National Council for Behavioral Health for Children and Teens. It was not her highest paying board job but it was of personal interest ever since her daughter’s anxiety disorder diagnosis. And this way she was able to work on the coalition that she herself had championed while she was in office. 

The team broke for lunch and the two women stayed behind instead of going to the dining room. Stella was wrapping up her notes from the morning session. Birgitte turned on the television to watch the 12:30 news show on TV1. When Stella finished she joined Birgitte, pulling up a chair to sit next to her. She watched the show that was in a language she didn’t understand, but she watched Birgitte more.

“Wow, look at that.”

“What?” Birgitte asked, turning to see Stella regarding her thoughtfully. 

“I can see your mind working,” said Stella, and Birgitte blushed. “Tell me.”

“Tell?” She scrunched her brow.

“Your thoughts about…” Stella motioned to the television. “I can gather it’s about immigration.”

Birgitte shook her head. “Best not to get me started. Politics are personal to me.”

Stella smiled. That much was clear, that was why she had asked. “I want to hear.”

Birgitte hesitated, quirking a skeptical smirk, then she explained what the news story was about and her passion kicked into overdrive. She spoke heatedly about the tightening of the prime minister’s already severe immigration law and the Moderates shameful support of it. She was appalled to hear what Jacob Kruse had to say; he was Party Chairman and this went against what the Moderates stood for. Birgitte didn’t bring up any of her past issues with Kruse in her rant to Stella, but she could hear the animosity behind it in her own voice.

Stella listened intently, appreciating Birgitte’s strong feelings on the matter. Once she finished, Birgitte blushed again, a little embarrassed about her revilement. The expression on Stella’s face, though, put her right at ease. “Have you considered returning to politics?” she asked. 

Birgitte’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “How funny. I have been thinking about that recently.”

“You really seem in your element,” Stella said. “Not that you aren’t in the business world, but there’s something more when it’s about your country’s politics—something that comes from much deeper inside of you.”

Birgitte stared awestruck at Stella. She was right. Her passions did run deep and she had been missing being a part of it as of late. Stella read her so very well, and it caught her off guard—she was unprepared to be so understood by someone she had only known for a short while. Birgitte gave Stella a sly look, then cleared her throat and changed the subject. “I fly to Tokyo tomorrow. I’ll be there til the end of the week.”

Stella nodded. “Have dinner with me tonight.”

“I can’t,” Birgitte said with a hint of disappointment. “I have my kids with me tonight, but when I get back, I’d very much like to.”

Stella didn’t say anything, just gave her a soft smile. They heard voices down the hall; people were coming back from lunch. Stella stood, smoothed down the front of her trousers, and went back to her seat at the conference table. 

***

Birgitte looked out over the busy skyline from her posh hotel room. Her mind was so occupied that her vision blurred and the view became a dark abstraction with pulsating neon glinting in the night. She blinked several times and sighed, turning to look at the man in her bed. This was so unlike her—taking two lovers in the space of only days. 

Jeremy was British, too, and they had fallen into a similar conversation to the one Stella and she had had the day before she left. When Jeremy had asked her about her position on the immigration law she had such a sense of deja vu, but then it turned into a longing for Stella. She had tried to divert from the subject the way she had with Stella. Thinking back, she realized she might’ve done it as a sort of test—subconsciously, of course. And Jeremy didn’t do as well as Stella had. 

She had told him that politics were personal to her and he had responded that it wasn’t her business anymore. The comment stung even though that clearly hadn’t been his intent, but it provoked something within her, so much so that the feeling was still there, gnawing at every thought, keeping her awake.

There was an intense pull tied to her homeland and that’s where Stella was now. Stella’s encouragement to get back into politics had surprised her and then the connection she had felt with the woman deepened which also came as a surprise. At first, she thought it would be fun to play the field, to sow those wild oats romantically since she never did when she was younger. It made her feel rebellious and she liked that feeling. It was freeing to throw her caution to the wind, to not analyze every possible outcome. But being cautious was in her nature and her mind was playing catch-up, analyzing these two burgeoning relationships she now had on her plate.

One detail she kept coming back to was that she had told Stella about Jeremy but she had not told Jeremy about Stella. She had been vague, though, only saying that she was seeing someone else and that it wasn’t serious, but there had been an intense urge to be honest with Stella about it and she wondered what that meant. 

Her eyelids started to feel heavy but she didn’t get into bed—instead she sat down in the plush chair that faced the window and continued to take in the electric view of downtown Tokyo, resting her head on the winged back. 

Her last thought before she drifted off to sleep was of Stella Gibson. 

***

Birgitte’s first business when she returned to Copenhagen was a speaking engagement. As she recited her leopard metaphor for the nth time, she noticed her enthusiasm for the work she was doing was beginning to wane. She was getting restless and something needed to change. Birgitte decided that she should talk to somebody about it and that that somebody should be Stella. Again, this surprised her. She didn’t think of discussing it with Bent or with Phillip but with a person who knew very little about Danish politics. Maybe she was looking for a fresh perspective on the idea ...or maybe she just wanted an excuse to see Stella.

She texted her as she left the auditorium to see if they could meet for lunch and felt absolutely giddy when Stella promptly replied, accepting the invitation.

“I have a secret.”

Stella looked up from her plate to see Birgitte grinning like the Cheshire cat. “Oh do you now?”

Birgitte nodded slyly. “I’m going back into politics.”

“That’s fantastic!” exclaimed Stella. 

“Yeah?”

“Yes, I think it’s brilliant.” Stella was beaming at her from across the table.

“I can’t let go of the idea and, I don’t know, it just feels right. Like it was only a matter of time and that time has come now.”

Stella nodded along with her, agreeing. “So what do you do? What’s the first step?”

“I need to get involved with the party again so I’ll have to talk to Jacob Kruse.”

“He was the one on the news program the other day?”

“Yes, he’s the party chair. Certain people, including him, might feel threatened.”

“Good.” Stella said. “Let them feel threatened—that will bring out their weaknesses.”

“Perhaps.”

“As for Kruse, I’ve seen him a couple of times on TV and he seems arrogant and opportunistic. Maybe he should be taken down a peg or two.”

“You have a real knack for reading people, do you know that?”

“Well, I am a detective,” Stella said with a smirk. 

“What do your detective skills say about what I’m thinking about doing after this lunch?”

Stella’s lips parted and she leaned in close towards Birgitte. “If the foot sensuously making its way up my leg is any indication, I’d say sexual intercourse between you and myself.”

Birgitte smiled broadly. “Picked up that clue, did you?”

Stella bit back her own smile and signalled for the waiter to bring their check. 

***

The restaurant was near Stella’s flat—it was possible Birgitte had suggested it on purpose—and they walked there at a hurried pace. Stella pushed Birgitte up against the door as soon as they got inside, kissing her deeply on the lips causing Birgitte to moan.

Stella made quick work of removing Birgitte’s jacket and unbuttoning her blouse. Birgitte started undoing Stella’s slacks. Stella grabbed her tit and roughly squeezed, descending on her with her mouth and tonguing her nipple through the coarse lace of Birgitte’s bra. Still pressed against the door, Birgitte’s head fell back and she whimpered, then she shoved her hand inside Stella’s pants and cupped her pussy, feeling damp silk. “Oh yesss, Stella,” Birgitte sighed as Stella ground her hips into her, increasing the pressure of Birgitte’s hold on her throbbing cunt. 

Their movements up til now had been rushed, but Stella slowed them down—her fingers crawling down, gathering Birgitte’s skirt and bunching it up at her waist. She kissed her fully and then looked at her with intense eye contact before she lowered to her knees. Slowly, Stella peeled down Birgitte’s tights, put her mouth close to her lace-covered sex and blew hot air onto her clit. Her knees buckled, the movement of her feet limited from the stockings stretched around her ankles. 

Birgitte looked down just as Stella pulled her panties aside and stuck her tongue inside her folds. Her head bobbed up and down as she fucked her with her mouth, gripping the fleshy roundness of her ass. Birgitte’s climax was fast approaching, and her hands went down and covered Stella’s. She arched her back and rocked her pelvis against Stella’s mouth. Stella trapped her clit between her lips and sucked, flicking the sensitive nub with the tip of her tongue. “Yes. Right. There. Don’t. Stop.” She grunted each of these words with punctuating thrusts of her hips, and then she was coming. 

She didn’t let Stella redress her, instead she grabbed her by the shoulders, saying, “Up.” Birgitte turned them, careful not to get tripped up on her tights, and pushed Stella up against the door now, her hand quickly finding its way back inside her pants. Her face stayed close to Stella’s. She teased her with coy little nips at her lips as she fingered her lover’s hot entrance; their dark, lustful eyes locked in heated passion.

As Stella neared release, the intensity on Birgitte’s face became mirthful. “Yeah?” she breathed out in a warm breath. Stella nodded, whimpering. Birgitte’s fingers went deeper and curled; Stella’s breath hitched. She repeated the action over and over, hitting her G-spot each time until Stella was shuddering as her orgasm overtook her. 

They adjusted their clothing back into place in silence, stealing shy glances at each other. “Can you stay a little longer?” Stella asked while tucking her silk blouse back into the waist of her high-waisted trousers.

“Would you make that tea again?”

Stella smiled. “Of course.”

***

Birgitte paced in her kitchen then reached for her phone and rang Stella. “He kicked me to the curb,” she said when Stella answered and made a little whistling noise for emphasis. 

“Really?”

“Yes, he was totally dismissive.”

“There has to be something else you can do. He’s not your only way into the party, is he?”

Birgitte let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know. Bent, my colleague, is on his way over to discuss.”

“Glad to hear you’re not giving up yet, Birgitte.”

This made her smile. “No, not yet.”

The next time Birgitte called Stella, she had a plan in place. She was going to challenge Kruse with only a month to campaign before the Moderates convention. 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” asked Stella.

“No, thank you,” Birgitte said, taken a little aback by her offer. “That’s nice of you. But, I am going to be very busy in these coming weeks. I don’t know when we will be able to meet.”

“That’s all right. Just know I’m here for you if you need to vent or ...relax.” She said that last word with flirty insinuation. 

Birgitte giggled adorably into the phone. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

***

They kept it secret for as long as they could but it was time to go public. Stella made sure she was free of meetings so she could watch Birgitte’s interview. She asked her assistant if she would translate it for her. Stella stood, tense—she was nervous for Birgitte but knew she was more than up for the task. Signe eyed her from her seat, curious about her boss’ interest in party politics. 

The segment with Ulrik began and Birgitte came out strong, Signe relaying the conversation. “‘You have been prime minister. Are your great achievements behind you?’” translated Signe, and Stella scoffed. “‘Are you a has-been?’”

“‘A has-been?’” Stella muttered disdainfully. “Men aren’t asked that even when they have one foot in the grave.” Signe huffed out a laugh. 

They watched as Birgitte absorbed the blunt scrutiny. She smiled and said “That’s a good question. I thought my time was over, that I had left politics behind. But I can see we’re moving in the wrong direction, and I have to act. My answer is simple: I am a politician.”

Stella cheered silently for Birgitte in her head, but outwardly, she could not contain her grin. Ulrik thanked Birgitte for coming and the segment ended. “Thank you, Signe. That’ll be all.”

“Ma’am.” Signe nodded and left Stella’s office. 

***

Birgitte made time to celebrate this small victory with Stella. She brought over a bottle of champagne to Stella’s apartment. 

“We’re getting a pretty good show of support.”

“That’s so great.”

“I think we might be able to get the numbers we need,” Birgitte said with careful optimism. She took a sip from her glass and wiped her lips with her fingers.

“I am ...amazed by you.” Stella was intently looking at her with eyes full of admiration.

Birgitte knitted her brow and a smile played on her lips. “You are?” she asked coyly.

“Mm-hm,” hummed Stella and finished off her drink. She set down the glass and stepped close to Birgitte, her hands going around her waist. “It’s very sexy of you to challenge Kruse, that wanker. I really want to see you take him down.”

“You and me both.” She drained the last of the champagne and returned Stella’s embrace. “In the meantime, do you want to see me go down?” Stella smirked, pleased with Birgitte’s cheeky innuendo. “Go down on you, that is,” Birgitte jokingly explained further and the two of them laughed.

“The times we’ve fucked you’ve been Birgitte Nyborg, public speaker and board chairwoman. I would very much like to be eaten out by Birgitte Nyborg, politician.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Pairing: White Nights by Oh Land


	3. Some Defeats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer:  
> I do not own the characters of The Fall. They belong to Allan Cubitt, Artists Studio, and BBC Northern Ireland.  
> I do not own the characters of Borgen. They belong to Adam Price and DR.  
> Dialogue from Borgen 03x01 written by Adam Price, Jeppe Gjervig Gram, and Maja Jul Larsen.
> 
> This chapter contains sexually explicit material.

Some defeats are only installments to victory. -Jacob Riis

Things were going so well. Birgitte got a great reception from the Moderates. After Jon Berthelsen’s speech, in which he resoundingly pledged his support, she let herself get optimistic. Then Kruse pulled a tactical move by leaving the convention to sign the financial agreement with Hesselboe. Seeing his face, victorious, on the large screen before the party had the chance to vote was quite deflating. 

Even as she silently cursed him, she had to admire his calculated strategy. Kruse had always operated like that, she shouldn’t have been surprised, but, then again, she had been out of the game for some time. She would have to play more shrewdly going forward ...if there was an opportunity to, that is. They had to wait for Kruse to return and hear him speak before the voting could take place. 

Birgitte left the auditorium to get some air. She paced a bit and then took out her phone and rang Stella. “Did you see?” she asked as soon as she answered. 

“Yes. I really don’t like this guy.”

“It was a smart move, and it may have worked. He’ll get the chance to speak and then we’ll vote. Stella… I think I’m going to lose.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself yet. Whatever happens, know that you put up a good fight, an impressive fight, for the short amount of time you had.”

“Yeah,” Birgitte murmured, unconvinced. 

“Come over when you’re done and we can either celebrate or wallow together.”

Birgitte saw Kruse’s car pull up. “I’ve got to go,” she said and hung up, briskly walking back to the entrance of the museum.

Birgitte was sat, seething, listening to Jacob Kruse’s speech. “Champagne socialism.” “Dream factory.” What an asshole. He kept talking about results like she hadn’t had one of the most successful terms a prime minister had ever had during her time in office. 

When he was done spouting his rubbish—which had a few misogynistic digs, including one about her wardrobe—she cast her vote, though, she was unable to cast off the feeling of despondency pressing in on her. Birgitte arranged her face into an expression of good sportsmanship when the returns came in, but the sting of defeat felt like a punch to the gut. There were many eyes on her as she approached Kruse and politely—humbly—congratulated him. 

Birgitte did her best to come off as the decorous loser in her interview with TV1, then she went out to the lobby where her battle-weary troops awaited. Bent and Katrine were sitting in sad silence. An arrangement of flowers on the table had an envelope with “From Jeremy” scrawled on it. She did not open it; she was not in the mood.

Katrine expressed her frustration, and although Birgitte felt the same, she offered conciliatory consolation that sounded anemic even to her own ears. “That’s politics for you. You win some and you lose some.” They shared a look, then Katrine left without saying goodbye to either of them. 

Bent stood. “We need to find out what’s happened with this party,” he said. It was his way of telling her that it wasn’t over. “Come on, I’ll buy you a drink.”

Birgitte shook her head. “No. I think I want to be alone.”

He put his hand on her shoulder and gave her a comforting squeeze before leaving. She looked at the flowers again and then called after Bent. She took the card, put it in her pocket, and handed him the vase. “Give these to Kirsten.” He smiled sympathetically and took the flowers to bring home to his wife. 

Birgitte did want to be alone, but when she got in the taxi she gave the driver the address to Stella’s flat.

Stella heard the defeat in her voice when she rang the intercom. She buzzed Birgitte in and went to put the kettle on. Birgitte seemed to like the tea she made and she thought it might be comforting. 

Birgitte stood at the door, shoulders slumped, her usual bright smiling face had a frown on it instead. Stella didn’t say anything, just ushered her inside and took her coat, tossing it on the sofa, then padded back into the kitchen to fix their tea.

Birgitte sat down at the small dining table, her gaze falling on some far-off spot. She blinked when Stella set the steaming cup in front of her—she finally smiled and said “Thank you.” Stella joined her at the table, sitting across from her, and wrapped her hands around the warm mug.

Stella let the silence breathe, knowing that Birgitte would talk if she wanted. She felt comfortable in the silences with Birgitte and hoped Birgitte felt that, too. After a while, Birgitte let out a heavy sigh and said, “I suffered a loss tonight, Stella.” 

Stella pursed her lips and nodded. “Anything I can do?”

“Distract me?”

“What kind of distraction do you want?”

Birgitte huffed out a small, knowing laugh. “Conversational,” she said.

Stella smirked. “All right.”

“What kind of family do you come from?” asked Birgitte. “Do you have brothers or sisters?”

“My parents have passed and I have a sister. A twin sister.”

“A twin? Really? Identical?”

Stella nodded. “Yep.”

“Wow, it’s hard to believe that there are two of you out there looking this beautiful.”

Stella scoffed, but there was a significant blush rising to her cheeks. 

“Is she back in London?”

“No, she lives in Wales. Divorced with a teenage son. I don’t see them too often.”

“Are you not very close?”

“Not as far as twins go, but we have a good relationship.”

“I’m sorry about your parents. When did that happen?” Birgitte noticed the slight shift in Stella’s demeanor even though it was only there for a split second. “We don’t have to talk about this.”

Stella shrugged. “It’s fine. It was a long time ago. My mum was killed in a car crash when I was just four years old and I was 16 when my father died.” 

Birgitte reached across the table and covered Stella’s hand with her own. “I think my sour mood might turn every topic somber,” Birgitte said, apologetically. 

Stella turned her hand under Birgitte’s and grasped her tenderly, running her thumb across her knuckles. “Would it be okay if I tried to get you to stop thinking?” Stella asked softly. “To just feel?”

Birgitte regarded her thoughtfully. The question brought a similar warmth inside her to that of the tea. “Yes,” she answered in a whisper.

She let Stella lead her over to the couch and undress her down to just her dark stockings. Stella removed her own jumper and knelt down on the floor beside where Birgitte was now lying on the sofa. Birgitte watched her with rapt attention as Stella began with a light massage, rubbing slowly up and down her legs and arms. She moved to her shoulders and saw that Birgitte was staring at her—they exchanged easy, gentle smiles. 

Stella placed one palm flat on Birgitte’s chest and made a T with her other hand under it. In one long languid pass, Stella ran her hand between Birgitte’s breasts and over her stomach, applying slight pressure with her fingertips, all the way down to the graceful rise of her pubic crest, then pressed into her with the heel of her hand. She reversed the direction, going up to where her other had stayed resting just below her collarbone.

Stella repeated this action over and over and over, caressing Birgitte with great care. All the tension and melancholia Birgitte was feeling started to melt away under Stella’s touch, and her body gradually began responding to it—her mind soon following. Once Stella had Birgitte writhing beneath her, she spoke. “Are you thinking or feeling?”

“I--” It was cut off by a moan, then she asked with a lustful fogginess, “What?”

Stella was pleased with this reaction. “Is there anything that’s bothering you in this moment?” Stella’s hand had just passed over her belly.

“I don’t…”

Stella cupped Birgitte’s sex, feeling the damp nylon against her palm, then she asked her question again. 

“No,” sighed Birgitte, blissfully.

“Good.” She let Birgitte grind herself on her hand before telling her to turn over to lie on her stomach. Stella continued the sensual massage, kneading Birgitte’s neck and shoulders and doing the same protracted motion along her spine from her nape to the smooth dip above her buttocks. Her fingers snuck under the waist of her tights and she rolled the thin fabric down, baring Birgitte’s beautiful backside. Stella worked the muscles there, admiring her pale olive, porcelain skin and the suppleness of her perfect ass. She noticed the subtle rock Birgitte was doing with her hips, seeking out pressure against her core. A breathy moan ended with a plea. “Stella, please,” she whimpered. 

Stella teased her with her finger up and down along the crack of her bum, getting closer to her center each time. She found her pussy nice and wet, and massaged her taint with her arousal. Birgitte grunted and her hips bucked. Stella slipped her fingers inside and began fucking her, slow and unhurried, even as Birgitte’s eagerness to reach release ramped up. 

The gentle bounce of her ass had Stella mesmerized. She grabbed a fleshy cheek with her free hand and squeezed, arousing herself in the process. Her fingers sped up at Birgitte’s cunt and she leaned over, planting soft, wet kisses all over her smooth, marzipan curves. Her tongue flitted between her cheeks and Stella felt the walls inside her lover tighten around her fingers. A simpering whine floated from Birgitte’s throat and Stella kept up her ministrations, steady and firm, through her orgasm and after as Birgitte trembled in the wake of her climax. Stella slid her fingers out and kissed her way up her back, enjoying the appreciative humming coming from Birgitte below.

Stella reached behind her, grabbed a tissue, and wiped her sticky fingers and then between Birgitte’s legs. She stayed kneeling on the floor and when Birgitte sat back up, she handed her the sweater she had thrown aside earlier. Birgitte slipped it on, the softness feeling divine on her bare skin.

Birgitte’s cheeks were pink and she was glowing with a post-coital radiance. “Feeling better?” asked Stella.

“Yes, much. That was some ...therapeutic sex.”

Stella smiled and then looked away, seeming to be a bit bashful after the comment. Birgitte stood up, the hem of the sweater just barely covering her ass. 

“This is a good look on you,” Stella said, sliding her hand up Birgitte’s thigh. “My cozy jumper with these seductively sheer tights.” Birgitte’s lips parted as a hot breath caught in her throat. Stella, on her knees, a thin tank top doing nothing to hide her hardened nipples, touching her like that, was a good look, too. 

Birgitte swayed as if under a spell, then the buzz from her cell phone inside her jacket pocket sounded in the silence. “I should get going,” she said, bending over to pick up her discarded dress.

While Birgitte was freshening up in the bathroom, Stella tidied up, washing out the mugs and drying them instead of putting them in the drainer. Birgitte came out and handed her the sweater, neatly folded, and Stella went to pick up Birgitte’s coat which had fallen to the floor during the course of their lovemaking. An envelope fell from the pocket and Stella picked it up, seeing Jeremy’s name on it before giving it to Birgitte, whose eyes went wide. She stammered, starting to explain, but Stella waved her off. “I don’t need an explanation.”

“I know you don’t need one but do you want one?” Birgitte asked. 

Stella shook her head. “Not particularly. Unless you want me to know something.”

Birgitte paused and thought. “Well, I guess there’s nothing to know about it.”

“All right then,” Stella said, warmly smiling, and Birgitte instantly felt at ease again. 

“Thank you for tonight, Stella.”

“My pleasure, Birgitte.” Stella fixed the lapels of her coat and kissed her softly on the lips. 

Birgitte chose to walk a ways before hailing a cab. She liked this area with its lively downtown feel. Even the graffiti was artful and winsome. A For Rent sign in a frosted warehouse window caught her eye and she peered inside, an idea sparking in her mind.

***

The next evening, Birgitte called Stella and asked if she was home. She told her to meet her in the alley one street over. Stella approached a beaming Birgitte just minutes later. “I want to show you something.”

She took a set of keys out of her pocket and unlocked the door next to the loading dock. Fluorescent lights flickered on as Birgitte led Stella down a hallway to a shabby-looking office space. Stella looked around and then quizzically at Birgitte. 

“I’m going to start my own party,” she said, putting her hands up in display. “Welcome to my new headquarters.”

Stella’s face lit up, in awe of the woman standing before her. “This is incredible, Birgitte!”

“Yeah, it just needs a little love, don’t you think?” said Birgitte, gesturing to the rubbish littered on the ground. 

“It’s perfect.” Stella wrapped her arms around Birgitte and she nuzzled happily into Stella’s neck. “You are so fucking powerful,” growled Stella. “You’re making me wet.” Birgitte giggled as Stella’s hands traveled down and grabbed two handfuls of her ass.

“Am I?” she said, pressing her hips into Stella.

Stella responded by pushing Birgitte up against the wall and kissing her deeply. As the passion of the kiss increased, they both fumbled with each other’s clothing. Stella hurriedly undid Birgitte’s belt and the button fly of her jeans as Birgitte unzipped the front of Stella’s dress. Birgitte clutched at Stella’s tits, breaking the kiss to suck on them. Stella moaned when Birgitte lightly bit her nipple through the lace of her bra, then her hand found its way inside Birgitte’s pants and she rubbed her over her damp cotton knickers. “See? You make me wet, too,” Birgitte whispered against her throat.

She mirrored Stella’s action, pulling her panties to the side and fingering her hot entrance. Their fucking became rough and frantic with sloppy kisses and soft whimpering. The cold, hard concrete wall at her back and Stella in her arms, returning her rapturous attention, felt so good, so naughty and wild and impulsive. It wasn’t like her to do something like this, but she had never thought of going out into the political unknown on her own before, either. 

  
_ New party, new me, _ she thought as they brought each other to climax inside the new home of her newest, exciting endeavor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Pairing: Breaking the Waves by Sophie Hunger
> 
> A/N: Canonically, Stella's father died when she was 14. I have changed that for the purposes of this story.

**Author's Note:**

> My knowledge of Denmark comes solely from watching Borgen and stanning Mads Mikkelsen (and now Sidse Babett Knudsen) so apologies for any glaring inaccuracies.


End file.
